


Questions of Monsters and Madness

by Graziaaa



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Blood and Violence, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I Tried, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slow Build, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, This Is STUPID, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-02-29 21:42:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18786784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graziaaa/pseuds/Graziaaa
Summary: Steve doesn’t sleep.Instead he drives to the forest and sits by the run down train tracks and watches the wind move the trees. He grips his bat waiting.Waiting for it to emerge from the mass of dark green.





	1. Tonight Is No Different (Except It Is)

Tonight as he watches the city of trees the soft sounds of the wind are harshly interrupted by the footsteps. Steve doesn’t know if they’re human or monster. His grip tightens around his bat turning his knuckles white.

It’s too dark to make out an outline of anything in the distance. Steve doesn’t move, or breathe. He concentrates on the sounds of the only other thing residing in the forest with him.

Whistling.

It’s whistling.

Steve almost lets out a sigh of relief. Monsters don’t whistle. He turns away and focuses back on the trees. Moments pass, maybe minutes as the footsteps gradually creep closer and closer. Steve doesn’t falter his gaze from the dark mass of trees. The sloshing of alcohol distracts him for a split moment.

“What the fuck? Harrington?”

Maybe monsters do whistle. Steve doesn’t have the energy to be surprised. Billy towers over his sitting body; it makes him feel small and crushable.

“I’m pretty sure it’s past your bedtime.” Billy draws out.

“Fuck off.” Steve snaps back.

“What are you look for man? You’re staring at trees.” He continues ignoring Steve’s outburst.

“I said fuck off Hargrove.” He growls. Steve hasn’t even looked at him.

“Whatever.”

Billy doesn’t move.

Steve turns and looks up at him.

“Did you not- Jesus did you pick a fight with a bear or something?” Steve cuts himself off.

Billy looks wrecked, like a piece of meat tossed into a hoard of starved wolves. Yet somehow it’s destruction avoided his face.

“Ha, there you are pretty boy. Welcome back,” Billy says sitting himself down next to Steve.

“Oh screw off.”

Billy huffs out a chuckle before letting the sounds of the howling wind that murmur in their ears and ruffle their hair fill the space of silence. Together they sit there for an unknown amount of time. The longer they sit the more Steve’s anger diminishes. Well, maybe the anger stays, and the only difference is that he becomes desensitised to it. Billy drinks from the bottle and slowly the sounds of morning begin as the warm orange of the sun peeks through the dark trees. Steve sighs and stands up brushing the dirt off his pants. He’s not looking forward to playing Steve today and looking Nancy in the eyes and being okay. Billy looks miles away; his body still and his eyes glazed over. Steve is almost tempted to sit back down and ditch the whole day of school. Almost. Steve leans down and grabs the bottle from Billy’s hands and chugs the remaining alcohol from the bottle. It snaps Billy out of his daze. When Steve looks back down at him he almost chokes. Billy is looking up at him and he looks- he looks so _open_. 

Before Steve realises he’s offering his hand to him.

Before Billy realises he grabs it and pulls himself off the ground before passing Steve his monstrous bat.

It’s an odd exchange that makes them feel as if they’re gliding over still water in the sweetness of summer. Wordlessly they make their way back towards civilisation standing side by side on the train tracks. They walk together until Billy treks off away from the tracks and away from Steve without a word. Though the wind whispers for both of them in a language neither understands.


	2. Less Real Than Not

The world is so much more vibrant when the sun is trailing him. She makes everything almost superficial as if the benches and people around him are about to crumble into small pieces of rubble. 

The coffee pumping through him is the only thing keeping him awake. The lack of sleep must be affecting him more than he thought. To his left Nancy and Jonathan approach smiling and greeting him. It hurts. Just a little.

He smiles back.

They join him at the elderly wooden table carefully placing themselves on the areas untouched by nature. The rumble of cars pulling into the car park beside them and the constant roar of conversations across the school allow for plenty of distraction. His hurt isn’t their fault, well, it is, but it’s not their fault that they fit better than him and Nancy ever did. It isn’t their fault. And Steve likes them both too much to let them  _ see _ how they make him both joyfully happy and disappointingly sad. 

“Hey Steve are you okay?” Jonathan asks softly.

Steve isn’t sure but the fact that Jonathan cares enough to ask almost summons rivers from his eyes. He smiles softly.

“I’m just tired,” Steve replies.

“Have the nightmares come back?” Nancy asks softly and sadly. Abrupt flashes stomp inside his head. It walks through the city of all the people he’s ever known, an army of monsters following behind ripping out throats and biting the heads off of everyone as they stand motionless, staring at him. He remembers watching his friends die.

“Something like that,” Steve answers almost honestly. His heart and soul feels heavy as if a weighted coat covers him. 

The sound of  _ his _ car yanks Steve away from the conversation and ultimately tares it to a stop.  He watches as it pulls up and parks, it’s blue reflects sun rays and screams perfection. Billy steps out of the car and the coat covering Steve is ripped off him. He’s entranced by the memory of their passive interaction in the forest. He wants so desperately for something, anything as if it’s in some possessive way, his secret. Which is stupid and utterly ridiculous but it feels almost sacred. Yet, the conflict between his dislike of everything Billy is and stands for and Steve’s draw towards a secret that he alone stands apart of tingles his very being.

Steve’s staring, obviously so. 

He can’t look away, it’s as if there’s an icky glue keeping his eyes focused.

Flashes of his now hidden injuries and hair blowing in the wind and the slight movements of Billy in the dark whip through his head. Their sleeplessness in darkness was a moment in time that is generally tossed away and only nodded at and most definitely not talked about again. It’s like the moments where you talk to a new person in class because your friends didn’t turn up and it’s nice but then next lesson your friends are there and then you never talk to that person or about that moment again. Or it’s like the moments where you help a person they only know of because of the smality of the town; where its spontaneous and never repeated or addressed.

And yet...

Billy turns and falls into Steve’s gaze.

Somehow Steve hopes that something, anything will be recognised.

They turn sharply away from each other.

The wind whispers in her lonely language that neither understands something soft and bittersweet for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your thoughts! PLEASE!


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